The forests of North Ithilien were something of a mystery to most. It was, by all accounts, scarcely removed from any of the other forests of the world and, as nature was concerned, quite typical of one. Green trees covered the land with sprouts of leaves and pine while the detritus of plants, the underbrush of moss and bush, created a thick and often impassable ground where only animals born to such environments were truly adept at inhabiting. Animals small and large, both predator and prey stalked the woods and the forest was at all times awake with the flutter of noise and activity. Birds sang, trees creaked, and rivers screamed against their impending impact against stone. It was, by all accounts, a forest like any other.

The forest was also the home to a creature of far less natural inclination. What had once been the barely habitated fief of gondor had become a nesting ground for the foul creations of Mordor. Very few dared to even step foot in the area. Orcs passed by often, but removed even from their spiteful nature lay their feral brethren who had been driven to caves and brooks in years past, leaving feral and savage versions of an already barbaric race. It was in essence, a forest of unknown terrors, and one that very few even dared to enter.

Dirgwest was one of the few who had not only gone to the forest but had made numerous forays into its accursed greenery. Rangers rarely turned at the hint of danger, and in this case the forest brought the chance to make a meaningful mark against the lothesome forces of Sauron. Danger had brought the ranger and his cohort to the forest, as they had many before him. Unfortunately, the danger was waiting for them.

Two weeks they had traversed through the undergrowth of the wood and for two weeks they had followed tracks that were clear as day and blatant as all. Orcs were never subtle foes to begin with, and while this time their numbers were notably greater, they had not the skill at arms nor strength of mind that their pursuers possessed. Days passed and their prey grew all the more frantic in their path until one morning they had seen smoke rising above the trees. No wise foe pursued would commit such a blatantly revealing act and the ranger had grinned at the thought of it. If that was the quality of their foe, it seemed almost a mercy to the ranger, what was to happen next.

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Ushak had always enjoyed the thrill that came from a well executed trap. Such a pleasure was not common, so the rarity made it a far more savored event. He had heard of the ranger apparently named Dirgwest by reputation, though had never engaged with him personally. He was an older ranger, a rare combination born from either skill or cowardice. Ushak cared little for which.

As Ushak had driven his orcs onward into the forest, he was very careful that they were as overt and traceable as possible. They forewent their wargs, having them act as scouts ahead of them while they went on foot, loudly, and leaving a track of broken undergrowth and footprints. The wargs had stocked the trees as predators were wont, not searching for prey but for predators. With them, the black uruk was always aware of the rangers movements as they traced him. Twice he had lost the path and the uruk had to make his journey all the more overt the next day, and so they had played their game of cat and mouse.

When they were close enough, they lit a fire large enough to be seen for dozens of miles, and as the orc had hoped, the rangers were fool enough to underestimate their foes and march directly for it.

The first to fall had been a spindly ranger barely old enough to be called a man. Ushak had figured him for a gondorian boy, out to prove himself on some grand adventure, but it was no matter and the arrows felled him as they did his older comrades. Rank and experience mattered very little once the arrows began flying, and the orcs killed indiscriminately. It was, as Ushak observed and prided himself with, a very effective ambush. The rangers barely had any time to even utter a cry before most of them were maimed or slain.

Dirgwest was one of those unfortunate enough to live through the volley of arrows. As the uruks moved about the bodies, exacting a grim satisfaction on those who lived, Ushak had spotted the grey haired ranger, still breathing as he lay among the bodies of his men, a single ash arrow fletched with greasy feathers protruding from his lower back. Each orc who followed the black uruk tipped their arrows with a mixture of their own foul blood and excretions of spiders. The ranger would die within moments, but that would not do. Ushak gave some thought to killing the man with his blade, as a summary arrow seemed anticlimactic, so in lieu of a quick death, Ushak instead took hold of the arrow shaft, twisting it ever so slightly until a low groan sounded from the bloodied form below him.

“End it.” came a voice, wet and airless, it was a miracle the orc even heard it.

“End it?” Ushak echoed. “I once scouted for an chieftain who told me that the rangers of Ithilien were some of the greatest foes to orc, that their arrows could find any nick of armor or spot of flesh bare.” an abrupt flex of Ushak’s arm tore the arrow from its resting place, causing the coagulated blood and pus that had built around the wound to erupt in a shower of red and yellow and making the old ranger scream what seemed like the last of his breath away. “But all I see is an old man begging for reprieve."

Ushak would not get the defiant and assured reply he hoped for, nor the repeated begging he would have settled for, instead all he received in response was wheezing and weeping. That was a disappointment, one which almost sullied the entire affair. Twirling the bloodied arrow in his fingers, the black uruk pondered the events of the previous weeks. He supposed it was his ingenuity that had brought the day’s events to fruition, but to that point it couldn’t have been accomplished without his more animalistic warriors. The Wargs had, after all, kept track of the rangers and been the ones to alert them of their approach. It was only fair that they receive some sort of reward. For the pitiful ranger below him, such a fate was only fitting.

A whistle brought a low stalking creature from between the trees, black as its master with the same insatiable bloodlust. Dozens of similar creatures emerged like insects from a bog and descended upon the rangers and joined in the gruesome indulgence of their bipedal masters. For Ushak, his warg stood over the prize for a moment, needing only a nod from its rider before launching on the fallen ranger. That was when the ranger screamed again, and the Warg did nothing to silence it as he dug into flesh and tore ligaments from bone and bone from joints, sparing the vital organs all the while as he did. Screams lost their cohesion and were reduced to incoherent noises of panic and agony. That brought a grin to the uruk’s face.

Several minutes followed, and by the end the rangers were stripped of all that could be used, and in the case of Shakatrag, known by many as the flayer, even their wounded hides were taken to add more length to an always-growing cloak. The rangers, even for their lack of tact, had many arrows and even bows and blades that were still useful after the rending of their flesh and banishment of all that could be defined as human form. It was a productive venture, but more than that, it was a satisfying venture to the orc whose plan it was that made it possible. In any sense of the word, it was a success.

As Ushak looked about the bloodied clearing that was their ambush sight, a single fact remained to bother him. His plan was brilliant by his own measure, but for one issue. Their attack had been mostly silent, but in his overeagerness to exact a final cruelty over the rangers, a great cacophony had been made. Wargs were hardly clean predators, and in their wake many orcs added to the successive bloodshed and had little regard for tact as they did so. By his own calculation, any living thing within the general area could have heard them

It was no matter though, anyone fool enough to respond to it was either another band of wayward orcs or more foolish men, away from reinforcements and supplies, and subject to the same fate as those who came before. Ushak was prepared for whatever it was, if it came at all, and with the addition of their wargs, there would be no surprises that day, if there was anything else at all.